


Fingers

by captainhurricane



Series: Kinktober 2017 [9]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Asphyxiation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-15 06:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12315645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Sort-of-fuckbuddies never find the middle ground.





	Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> the word of the day is asphyxiation

They’re both fully aware that they’re replacements: both phantoms for the real thing. It never stops them from pushing each other against walls, desks, bookshelves. It never stops Ocelot’s chatter of the exact details of what he would like to do- and what he is going to do. It never stops Kaz’s anger from being blazing, never stops the hand that grips Ocelot’s hair to grip it less.

 

They never speak when they do this behind closed doors: Ocelot has once or twice (or four times or ten times) suggested and altogether went for it in public but that had ended with stinging fingers and Kaz’s cane digging into his stomach.

 

All words are quickly stifled into sloppy, wet kisses, muffled groans and moans as cocks are grabbed and tugged, as clothes are ripped off just enough for the wandering hands to get where they want to go.

 

This means nothing. This has never meant anything.

 

Even when it goes on for years, even after organisations have risen and fallen and phantoms have come and gone. Even when they’re both older, maybe not anymore wiser.

 

This means nothing.

 

That’s as much as Kaz ever says as he fights against Ocelot’s quick and clever hands, slams the gun from Ocelot’s hands with a prosthetic fist.

 

“None of us mean anything without him,” Ocelot hisses back, his piercing eyes always dancing with amusement: like only he’s on this private joke of the universe.

“Fuck you. And fuck him,” Kaz snarls and gets his hands around Ocelot’s throat.

 

Ocelot’s grin widens. “Mister Miller,” he croaks through hitched breath as Kaz’s finges tighten. Even as they do, Ocelot grinds down on him, clearly hard.

 

“Fuck you,” Kaz hisses and frees one hand in favour of sticking fingers down Ocelot’s throat instead. Kaz knows it’s the wrong thing to do because Ocelot loves all of this, loves dealing pain and receiving it- especially the first- loves the dirtier, seedier side of human nature.

 

Kaz had never learned how to love it, had just learned how to deal with it.

 

He grimaces as Ocelot sucks his fingers. Ocelot breathes roughly through his nose, his gloved hands having grabbed Kaz’s wrist.

 

Kaz’s fingers still squeeze Ocelot’s throat, only loosening when Ocelot lets out a choking sound.

“Your grip is quite something,” Ocelot wheezes once he gets some air into his lungs again. His cock is still bulging his jeans, still poking against Kaz.

 

“How the fuck do you get hard from that,” Kaz hisses and places his fingers back around Ocelot’s throat, but doesn’t squeeze this time. He massages, he caresses.

 

Ocelot’s hips jolt. “Because,” Ocelot says. He winks.


End file.
